Come to think of it, I have no idea what assignment he’s on, she mused, shocked at the fact. Normally they discussed each other’s assignments in depth, seeing things from their unique perspectives and often adding a new element to the work.
A sneaky question entered her mind about what exactly had taken Marcio to Bristol. It seemed strange for him to leave London so soon after the twins were born.
At that point her phone vibrated, and she snatched it up eagerly.
It was great to see you today, and to meet our children. I wish I could go back and change the past. I should have walked you down the aisle, proud that you were bearing my children. I was an idiot. Is it too late for us to try again? I still love you. Daniel x
Helen’s hands shook as she read the message. Complicated emotions churned in her stomach. She knew she should be furious, should tell him to leave her alone. She didn’t believe his protestations of love; how could he suddenly decide he still loved her, after all this time without so much as an email? And yet, he had seemed so genuine, the tenderness in his face, in his voice, when he saw James and Jasmine, it couldn’t have been faked surely?
Her mind was writhing with troubling thoughts as she put her phone down and let her head sink into the pillow.
She didn’t hear from Marcio until late in the evening, when he called to check that she and the twins were okay, and to say he missed her. His voice had sounded distant, reserved. Helen tried to find out more about the assignment without sounding like she was prying, but Marcio had been strangely reticent. As she hung up the phone Helen felt, for the first time, that Marcio was just beyond her reach. It was an uncomfortable feeling; one she hoped would evaporate when he returned the following evening.
It was late by the time Marcio got home, and he looked exhausted.
Leaning over to kiss Helen’s cheek, where she sat curled up with James feeding, he stroked her hair briefly.
“Sorry I’m so late; Friday night on the trains is chaos.”
“How was the assignment?” Helen looked up into Marcio’s face. She saw his eyes shift away, before returning to hers.
“Fine. Do you mind if we talk about it later? I desperately need to grab a shower.”
“No, of course not, that’s fine. Have you eaten?” Helen swallowed the fear lurking in her throat, nearly choking her.
“Yes, I grabbed something at the station. How are the twins?”
“They’ve been fine. Mum’s a star.”
The conversation felt stilted to Helen, awkward. Marcio seemed to sense it too.
“Sorry, darling, I’m shattered.” He saw her draw breath, “I know you’re tired too. I just don’t have many words. Let me grab that shower, and I’ll be back to my usual wonderful self, I promise.” He flashed her the ghost of a smile and was gone.
When he had left the room, Helen let the tears fall. Her mother was packing, her train left early the following morning. With Marcio distant, Helen felt utterly abandoned. Cuddling James to her chest, she whispered something she hadn’t said to the twins in a long time.
“I think it might just be us from now on, my cherubs. Mummy will look after you, no matter what.”
Daniel’s words seemed to haunt Helen, as she struggled through day after relentless day. The life they might have had, with a nanny and a cleaner. Would the twins be better if someone competent saw to their needs? Someone who didn’t weep all the time, who knew what to do when they cried. She hadn’t heard from Daniel since the text, but his presence lingered in the apartment. Marcio seemed always absent during the day, chasing one assignment after another. Helen was grateful that he was paying the bills, but she missed him. Missed talking to him, holding him. They were like shift workers: she handed over the babies when he got in from work, and went straight to bed to get some precious sleep before one of them woke demanding milk. When that happened, Marcio would stand apologetically in the doorway, holding one if not two screaming babies, looking helpless.
One evening he saw the exhaustion on Helen’s face as he stood in the doorway and felt as if he were her torturer rather than her partner.
“Let me bottle feed them. Just once?”
“I don’t have the energy to pump milk. I can barely keep up with their demand as it is.” Helen sounded cross, defensive.
“Then let me give them some formula.”
“No!” Her eyes flashed at him. “We’ve been through this. The breastfeeding counsellor said formula was like giving them poison. I can’t do that.”
She nearly added, What would Daniel think? He already thinks I can’t cope, that I’m a bad mother. She knew Marcio would say Damn Daniel, what did it matter what he thought, so she said nothing.
“Helen, you can’t go on like this. You’re barely getting 2-hours sleep at a time. You need a break.”
“They’re only three weeks old. I am not filling their bodies with poison. I am their mother, I can feed them.”
Marcio drew breath to continue his argument, but one look at Helen’s closed face made him hesitate. He didn’t know what to do for the best. Privately he didn’t think formula would poison the babies. Obviously it wasn’t as good as Helen’s milk, but surely it would be better for the twins if Helen got some sleep?
When Marcio woke later that night, it was to find Helen slumped on the floor, sobbing hysterically, and baby Jasmine lying on the bed, screaming.
“What happened?” He was instantly awake, picking up Jasmine, before walking round the bed to Helen, hugging her with his free arm.
“I CAN’T DO THIS,” Helen screamed, before collapsing again in uncontrollable sobs. James began to cry from his basket, and Marcio sat, helpless, wondering where his priorities lay.
“Give her here.” Helen bit out the words through her sobs. Marcio hesitated.
“GIVE HER TO ME. I WON’T HURT HER!”
Shocked at the rage on Helen’s face, Marcio mutely handed Jasmine to Helen and went over to pick up James. Both babies were screaming now, sensing that all was not right with their mummy.
Slowly Helen controlled her sobs, shushing Jasmine and cradling her to her chest. She reached out an arm for James, and cuddled him close. With both babies cradled in her arms, Helen sat on the floor and rocked backwards and forwards, crooning gently between her hiccupping sobs.
It terrified Marcio. He felt helpless, excluded; bewildered. He turned on the bedside light and sat silently on the floor beside her.
Eventually Helen looked up and the expression on her face was like a punch in Marcio’s solar plexus. He had never seen such despair.
“I’m not fit to be a mother. I got angry, when Jasmine wouldn’t latch. I threw her on the bed. I threw her! She’s three weeks old.”
She began crying again, quietly this time, as if she didn’t want to disturb the now sleeping babies.
“Darling, it’s okay.”
Helen looked up. “It’s NOT OKAY.” Her voice rose again, and the sobs began anew.
“You’re exhausted. You need a break. Let me take them into the spare room for the rest of the night, so you can get some sleep.”
Helen looked mutely into Marcio’s blue eyes. She couldn’t work out why he was still with them. She was a wreck. She rarely spoke to him anymore. They had barely cuddled since the twins were born; she couldn’t remember the last time they’d made love or even kissed. What was in it for him? Why was he staying? They weren’t even his children.
Her mind felt clouded and heavy. She couldn’t seem to think what to do. Closing her eyes, she squeezed them tightly as if trying to stem the endless tears.
Marcio gently took one baby at a time, lay them in their baskets, then carried one basket at a time quietly from the room. Helen heard the springs creak as he climbed into the bed in the spare room.
I should go in there, tell him not to be silly. They’re my children, not his, they’re my responsibility, not his.
Somehow she couldn’t find the strength. Crawling back onto the bed she lay her head down on the pi
llow. The clouds in her mind became darker and darker until she dropped into a heavy restless sleep.
Marcio stayed home in the morning, as the health visitor was due. He wanted to have a private word about Helen. In the end he didn’t need to.
“You look dreadful.” Zoe the health visitor smiled to take the sting from her words.
Helen laughed. “Thanks. We had a bad night.”
“Are they not sleeping?”
“They do, but they seem to take it in turns.”
“Are you bottle feeding at all?”
“I don’t have the strength to pump milk.” Helen wrapped her arms around herself as if to stave off the cold.
“What about formula?” Zoe’s voice was casual.
Helen looked up, shocked. “I thought formula was poison?”
“Who told you that?” Zoe looked genuinely appalled.
“The breastfeeding counsellor.”
“Ah. Sometimes they can be a little evangelical. Not that it’s a bad thing,” she added hastily, as if realising it wasn’t her place to pass judgement.
“Of course breast is best for your children, but mix-feeding can be almost as good. Better in some ways, if it means you get more sleep. You’re likely to breastfeed for longer if you get a break in the early days. I’ve seen many women give up breastfeeding entirely inside a month because it’s so hard. And they only have one baby.”
She smiled at Helen’s sceptical expression and continued, “Besides, if you use the cartons, they’re fully sterile, there is very little risk. And you need only use them now and then, to give yourself a break. You might find you can use a bottle to get them into a better routine, and then return to breastfeeding exclusively. Any effects from the formula will be gone from their bodies in a couple of weeks.”
“Really?” Helen looked at Zoe shrewdly. “You wouldn’t just say that because it’s what I need to hear?”
“I would never do that.”
“But the way the counsellor spoke, it was like we would undo all the good of breastfeeding the minute a drop of formula passed their lips.”
Zoe pursed her lips and frowned. “Not enough mothers are like you, Helen. Many women don’t even try and breastfeed. Of course it’s their choice, but the counsellors are trying to get as many women as possible to give their children the best start in life. Sometimes they try too hard.”
She looked over at Marcio. “Besides, the dads like the chance to feed the babies too. Gives them time to bond.”
Helen looked at Marcio as well. She had never thought of it like that. It had seemed so important to give her babies everything she could; it hadn’t occurred to her that she was excluding Marcio. Maybe a carton or two of formula now and then wouldn’t hurt. Especially if it meant she didn’t start screaming at her babies in the middle of the night. Just remembering the night before made the tears come again.
“Helen, what is it?” Zoe looked concerned.
“I…” She wasn’t sure she should tell Zoe. What if she took the babies away? “It was nothing.”
“Helen, you can tell me. Did you shout at one of the kids, is that it?”
Helen stared. Zoe sat with her hands in her lap, her smart suit and long blond hair making her look like an office manager rather than a health worker. She was smiling sympathetically at Helen, with no trace of judgement in her face.
“How did you know?” Helen’s voice came out in a whisper.
“When mothers get as tired as you, even mothers with only one baby to deal with, they often find themselves screaming at a child that won’t feed or won’t sleep. It’s perfectly normal. If you find any urge to shake the child, put them down immediately and leave the room. Or wake Marcio. The odd scream of frustration won’t hurt them, although of course it’s better to try and get some help. Shaking them is bad.”
Helen thought about throwing Jasmine on the bed in the night. Her heart thumped painfully. Might she have hurt her? She looked over at Jasmine, sleeping peacefully in Marcio’s arms, and tried to think rationally. She hadn’t actually thrown her, now she thought about it. More plonked her roughly. It still felt awful, realising how close she might have come to shaking her baby in frustration. Really, how did babies survive the first few weeks in the world?
“Helen, you need some sleep. Go. Now.”
“I can’t, the babies need feeding soon.”
“I have a bottle and some cartons in the car. I’ll lend them to you, Marcio can feed them. Get some sleep. Really, the world will seem a better place when you actually get a few hours in a row. They don’t use sleep deprivation as a torture method for nothing, you know.”
When Helen woke four hours later, she realised how right Zoe had been. She felt like a new woman. She thought about all the times in her life she had taken sleep for granted, and wondered if she would ever take it for granted again.
Chapter Fifteen
Helen looked at her babies, lying on their play mat, kicking away happily and gurgling to themselves and felt her heart surge with love. Now they had settled into a routine, Helen found she was more able to enjoy them. Her favourite thing in the world was burying her nose into their downy soft hair and breathing in the unmistakable scent of baby. As she watched them gazing up at the bright toys hanging above their heads, she felt complete.
“On days like today I can understand why women have dozens of kids.”
Sharni looked up from her own contemplation of the infants and stared in horror at her friend. “You want to have dozens?” She couldn’t even imagine having one. So far she wouldn’t even hold them in case they started crying or puked on her.
“God, no. I’d like to have one with Marcio, maybe even two. You know, children that are his entirely. Not that the twins aren’t his children in every way that matters.”
Sharni nodded emphatically. When Marcio had arrived in Helen’s life, she and Ben had talked about their fears for Helen: that she was loving on the rebound, that Marcio wouldn’t stick around once the babies were born. They agreed now that they had been wrong on both counts. You only have to spend five minutes with Marcio when the babies are there, to see how much he loves them.
“How many children does Marcio want?”
“We haven’t talked about it.” Helen paused, thinking about Marcio’s large family. “He probably wants dozens.” She sighed, her feelings of contentment seeping away. They didn’t seem to talk about much anymore except to share information about when the last feed or nappy change took place.
“Have you heard from Daniel?” Sharni’s voice was cautious. Looking at Helen’s pensive expression she wished she had kept her mouth shut.
“No.”
“That’s good then, isn’t it?”
Helen’s expression was inscrutable. Sharni thought, for a moment, that she looked as if it wasn’t a good thing at all. Please Allah don’t let her still have feelings for him, Sharni prayed, to a god she didn’t entirely believe in. Still, it didn’t hurt, in an emergency. Time to change the subject.
“The group are meeting for coffee on Sunday, why don’t you come with the twins? I’m sure Ben and Stuart would love to meet them? It’ll be a chance for us all to say goodbye to Dawn too.” She knew that Dawn had been around a few times since Jaz and Jay had arrived. She seemed to be relishing the role of surrogate grandmother to the tiny bundles. Helen was going to miss her when she left in a week’s time.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready to be out and about with them. What if they want feeding or have a nappy explosion?”
“You’ll cope, you’re amazing. We can come to Pops if it’s easier? Then you can walk rather than battling with public transport.” When Sharni thought about getting a pushchair on a London bus it made her shiver slightly. No, she wasn’t at all sorry not to be a mum.
“I guess if it was Pops that would be okay.” She twisted her hands together and swallowed the rising panic.
“Come on, you need to get out. Have you even left the apartment since you got out of
hospital?”
“Not much,” Helen admitted. “We go to the park sometimes, but it’s such a palaver getting them all dressed up in their cold weather gear.”
“That’s settled, you need to get out. Come to Pops, I’ll tell everyone that’s where we’re meeting.”
“I don’t really have any pictures to talk about.”
“Bring some photos of the babies.”
Helen thought guiltily that she didn’t really have any pictures of the babies yet. She hadn’t unpacked her photography gear since moving into the apartment. It seemed there was never any time. I am such a terrible mother, I should be trying to record every minute of their precious lives.
Fighting back tears, she got up to make tea, not wanting Sharni to see her face. When she returned, Sharni noticed the red eyes, but didn’t know what to say. Although they were friends, Helen seemed a world away now she was a mother. It was as if her change in status opened a vast gulf between them.
“Why don’t I take a picture of you with the babies?”
“My camera’s still packed.” Helen shrugged.
“Then unpack it!” Sharni laughed. “Come on, I’ll help you.”
With some cajoling Helen located the box with her camera bag, found a battery with some charge, and was about to hand the camera to Sharni when she hesitated.
“I don’t really want pictures of me, I look awful.”
“You look just fine. But no worries, take pictures of the bairns then. Look at them, all giggles and gurgles.”
Helen pointed her lens at the babies and snapped a few shots. It felt strange to be taking pictures again, as if Helen the photographer belonged to an entirely different life that didn’t exist anymore. She snapped a few more. Reviewing the shots she had taken she was pleased to see that some of them were quite effective. The babies were very cute.
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